'Well,' I conceded, 'no doubt I was overhasty in my judgment. She has done no harm.'

Nodding, Myrddin resumed walking, turning back the way we had come. The palace atop the Tor was black against the pale purple sky. 'Watch and pray, Gwalchavad,' Myrddin said absently. 'Watch and pray.'

He returned to the Tor then, leaving me to my thoughts. It came into my mind to visit the shrine – the old shrine where the tin merchant Joseph erected the first church in the Island of the Mighty, and where the Grail was first seen in this worlds-realm. No more than a hut made of sticks and mud, it stands on the place of that first small church on the hill above the lake.

The good brothers of the abbey often say prayers in the shrine, and I wondered if I should meet any of them, but as I approached, I saw that I had the place to myself, which is how I much preferred it. See, now: I am faithful in my own way. It is not that I dislike the good brothers, God knows, but I have not their learning, and I always feel a pagan whenever I encounter monks at prayer. The brothers are not to blame for this; I own the fault right readily. Perhaps the purity of their example shames me; such virtue and devotion as they demonstrate is to be lauded, but I am not cut of that cloth. My days are spent on the back of a horse with a shield on my shoulder and a spear in my hand. So be it!

The shrine was black against the fading sky, and I stood for a moment just looking at its looming shape and feeling the immense age of the place. Slowly, and with mindful reverence, I mounted the slope of the hill and went inside the shrine. It is a simple, bare room, large enough, perhaps, for three or four, but no more. A single, narrow window opens above the altar made of three shaped slabs of stone. There was a candle on the altar, but it was not lit, and the interior of the shrine was dark as a cave.

Dark it might have been, but I was aware only of an immense and restful peace which seemed to fill the tiny chapel with a serenity as deep and wide as the sea. Entering, I knelt and closed my eyes, plunging myself into this ocean of calm; the irresistible tide pulled me down and down and down into its fathomless depths.

I did not pray – that is, I said no words aloud – but allowed my mind to drift along on the deep-flowing current of peace. If I had any thought at all, it was merely to bathe myself for a while in the calm of all calms, and perhaps touch for a moment the source of all serenity. Perhaps this is prayer by a different name; I do not know.

Neither can I say how long I remained like this; time was swallowed in eternity, I think, for it seemed to me that I had inhabited the shrine for a lifetime of lifetimes – in all that time knowing nothing of earthly strife and clamour, knowing nothing of desire or striving, knowing nothing but blissful contentment, and the desire that I might abide like this forever. To stay just as I am, I thought, would be joy surpassing all pleasures.

I held that thought in my mind, clung to it, and, clinging, cried out in my heart of hearts: Great King, cast me not aside! The cry arose unbidden, but I knew it as my own, for I had uttered my deepest fear. Nor was the reply long in coming. For all at once my hands and face began to tingle with an exquisite sensation, and I imagined beams of light, or flames, dancing over my flesh. I was immersed – not in water, but in living light! The notion grew so strong in me that I opened my eyes, and saw the shrine awash in a pale, golden luminescence, shifting and shimmering over the interior walls like the reflection of light on water.

Another time I might have been amazed at this wonder, but not now. In my present mind, it seemed wholly natural and expected that this should be. The only curiosity was that the dancing light had no point of origin: it simply shone of itself, and was everywhere manifest, gilding the rude-built shrine with glimmering gold. Ah, but to see it gleam and shine was pure delight, and I was seized by an inexpressible rapture. My heart soared and I felt as if I were a child once more, enfolded by a bliss which surpassed all understanding.

And then… and then: a miracle. The light intensified, its radiance growing bold and sharp, taking substance, as it were, and I felt a warmth steal over me – like that which arises when the sun breaks through the concealing cloud and all the earth warms of an instant beneath the all-pervading strength of its rays. At the same time, I heard the sound of silver bells hung from the branch of a tree for the wind to strike one against another. The sound was the light, and the light was the sound; I understood that they were both but emanations of a thing I had not yet perceived.

The sound, like the light, grew and hardened, too. And when I thought all the world must hear the ringing of the unseen bells, a word formed. I heard it as a word breathed, not spoken, a resonant word which seemed as much a part of me as my very bones.

Behold!

I searched within myself what this command might signify, but I saw nothing save the bare stone altar. And then, even as my eye lit upon the stone, it began to gleam with a golden sheen, the rough stone gilded by the light. The bellsong quickened and I heard again the breathless command: behold.'

Even as I looked, it seemed as if something like scales fell from my eyes and I saw, radiant upon the altar, the Grail.

The Grail!

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the sacred object, ablaze with the fiery light of glory. The intensity of its radiance burned my face; it felt as if my eyes were coals of fire. I held my breath for fear of singeing my lungs should I dare inhale the searing air. Blood pounded in my ears with a roar like that of the ocean; beyond the throbbing pulse in my ears was a sound like that of a harp pouring out a heavenly sound, the incomparable melody falling like holy rain from heaven.

Transfixed by the beauty of the Blessed Cup, I made to raise my hand to shield my eyes, but could not lift so much as a finger. Neither could I look away. The Grail filled my vision, was all my vision. I began to see as I have never seen before. I saw the path of my life stretching out before me, and it went on forever.

I thought within myself to follow the path to discover where it might lead next, and suddenly I felt a presence with me in the shrine – a mighty force, towering in the strength of its vitality, majestic in its power – like a storm at sea where gales blow and great waves clash. Oh! the weight of it! The weight! It was as if a mountain had shifted and settled upon my pitiable frame, and I was being crushed out of existence. I could not endure.

I knew my last living moment had come. My poor heart laboured in my chest, faltered, and then stopped. I closed my eyes.

Mercy! I cried inwardly. Mercy, Lord.

These words had but fled my mind when the weight vanished. My heart began beating, and I could breathe once more. Cool air, like a soothing balm, rushed into my lungs and I drew it deep, almost choking on it. No longer gripped by the power that had held me, I fell on my face before the altar.

My chest ached; my limbs quivered. I lay gasping like a fish flung from the water. But, oh, the air revived me wonderfully well, for it tasted as sweet on my tongue as the richest mead; the delicious scent filled my head and mouth and I gulped it down in great, greedy draughts, feeling as if I had never drawn breath before. When I at last raised my head, I was dizzy with the fragrant intoxication of the air.

The Grail had gone, as I knew, but the shrine still held a glimmer of the heavenly radiance of the sacred vessel, though that, even as I watched, faded quickly away, leaving the room in darkness once more. I lay for a time, placid, unmoving, my spirit at ease with the stillness of the night. And when at last I heard, as a summons from another realm, the abbey bell toll the midnight prayer, I rose unsteadily to my feet. At the doorway, I paused and looked back, hoping, I think, for a last fleeting glimpse of the holy object, but the altar was bare stone, hard and cold. The Grail had moved on.